The Last Slice
by G.N. Took-Baggins
Summary: A one-shot and an ending.


**{A/N: For those of you who don't watch the show, Ned bakes pies and wakes the dead. He can touch a dead body and they'll come to life, if they're awake for more than one minute, another live being of the same mass would die in they're stead. But as every gift has it's consequences, first touch; life, second touch; dead again, forever.**  
**Chuck was killed on a cruise boat when she was traveling for the first time, Ned heard about it and brought her back, killing the funeral director in her stead.**  
**But now her and Ned can never touch or she'll die again. They're a couple, but they have plastic wrapped kisses, gloved hand holding and by proxy high fives.**  
**That should fill you all in pretty well for all that I leave unexplained in this.  
However, for those who do watch the show, I know I don't have everything accurate, but I had forgotten what was happening when Chuck told them she was alive, so by the time I had remembered I'd already had all of this and I liked it too much to get rid of it. ^-^}**

Vivian Charles had been having an ordinary day, frankly, too ordinary. And because it was too ordinary, she knew something would come along and turn it around. She could feel the whirlwind about to happen, something that would change her day but what she wasn't expecting, was that it would change her life.

As she stood in the kitchen, stirring a dry martini that she'd decided to surprise her sister Lillian with, a knock came at the door. She fussed over her hair for several minutes then shuffled over to the door. Lillian walked up behind her. "If it's one of those girl-scout brats, we're doing it my way and stuffing her in the pantry till her parents come to get her," she said.

Vivian pursed her lips and pulled the door open. On the other side stood Charlotte 'Chuck' Charles. She was Vivian's niece, Lillian's daughter and supposedly dead.

Next to her stood Ned, the pie maker and Chuck's childhood sweetheart.

They were both smiling and Chuck announced happily, "I'm alive."

"Then what'd you do?" Olive Snook, employee at the PieHole, Ned's pie shop, and Chuck's roommate. She rested her elbows on the counter and a rag in her hands that she was twisting and untwisting, she was enjoying the story a little too much.

"I took a drink of whiskey and enjoyed looking through my pop up book," Emerson Cod, private eye, said, whilst leaning back in his chair. He had been telling Olive about his most recent case, involving a dead shoe shiner, a jaunt across the country to track down the dead mans missing shoe brush and a tussle with a hog.

After describing the case to Olive, she'd been so entranced that she dropped the ice cream that was on her scoop onto the table, it made a slight splat sound and creamy trails streaked away from the glob. Emerson pointed at it and Olive made a slight squeaking sound. "Right," she giggled, mopping it up with her rag.

Emerson sighed. "I'll take the peach, à la Mode," he shooed Olive along to go back to serving customers, which she did. Albeit moodily, she still did.

Olive shuffled into the kitchen, grabbing a peach pie off the tray, she grabbed a pie serving utensil and dove it into the pie. She lifted a perfect piece out and set it on a plate, pleased with how it turned out. She took it to Emerson, snatching a fork on her way. She stopped at the main counter where he sat and plopped some ice cream onto the piece.

"Happy?" she raised her eyebrows, setting the plate of perfection in front of him. He smiled mockingly and slapped some money on the table. She sighed, taking the money and putting it into the register.

She walked back into the kitchen, twisting the knob on the stove, lighting a fire underneath the tea kettle. She let it heat up and took off her apron, her shift was almost over and she was tired, so she hung up her apron and sat down on a chair, waiting for the familiar whistle that said that the tea kettle was done.

She looked towards the window and saw that the sun was starting to come down, casting a darker lighting across the city. She always had an eerie feeling when she saw things like that, she always got the feeling that something was ending soon, of course she knew that it was just the day that was ending, transforming into night. But she liked to pretend it was much more dramatic than that.

She got her tea and went out into the empty main room, looking at the empty tables and chairs, something made her feel like they'd be empty for much longer. She made a 'hmph' sound and went to lock the door.

She got two steps from it when a face appeared wide dark eyes, a look of malicious intent was on their face and they were grinning wickedly. She screamed as loud as her little lungs could, unleashing a deafening shriek.

The door swung open and her first thoughts were 'There's a robber at the door who wants to kill me!', but in reality they weren't going to harm her at all. The person in question was no more than Chuck, who had seen Olive coming near the door and had planned to scare her, because she was in a wondrous mood and what better way to express her joy than by scaring Olive.

Chuck skipped into the shop, giggling. "Did I scare you?" she grinned, wrinkling her nose playfully.

Olive stood there, breathless and flustered. "Charlotte Charles! What on earth possessed you to do something like that to a human being?!" she collapsed into a nearby chair, staring at the floor, wondering how she got mixed up with such great people that kept her on her toes.

Chuck sighed and sat down. "I've had a great day," she said happily. Olive looked across at her, a little frown crossing her face. Then her face lit up. "Oh! With your aunts, well, aunt. How'd that go?"

The brunette woman grinned. "It was great," she leaned against the counter, smiling at nothing in particular. She had had a, well, great time reuniting with her aunt and mother, crying on each other and she kept being pinched, they wanted to make sure she was actually there.

But the problem was that they wouldn't believe that Chuck would fake her death on them, they didn't think she would ever do that to them and they were right. She never ever wanted to do something like that to her beloved Lillian and Vivian.

So Ned had had to spin a tale about how her supposed killer had assumed she was dead when he threw her in the water and some Chinese fishers had found her and taken her in. Explaining how Charlotte could speak some Chinese, but really she'd learned it from trying to read an ancient Mandarin cookbook several months previously.

Naturally Lillian and Vivian were delighted to have her back, but it was all very sudden for them, so Chuck had sent them to bed. And with no further ado, Ned had taken her home to send her to bed as well.

Olive was told all about this by Chuck and now looked around. "Where is Ned?" she frowned slightly. Chuck looked over her shoulder.

"Oh Emerson sucked him into some case again, but they wouldn't let me come, Ned said I had to go to bed," she pouted.

Olive grinned. "We're not going to let them tell you what to do, are we?"

Chuck smiled and shook her head. They both jumped up and ran out, closing the door and locking it behind them. They dashed down the street to where Olive's Volkswagen sat, Chuck slipped into the passenger seat and Olive started the car from the driver's seat. "This is fun, doing what Ned told you not to do," she beamed.

The small car rattled and bounced down the road, it coughed and spluttered the whole way down to the morgue. The little orange thing turned one last painfully slow turn, before stopping outside the girls' destination. They got out and a hop, skip and a few stairs later they were inside.

The entire building smelled like bleach and death, it reeked and reminded Chuck of that short yet dreadful time she'd spent in a funeral home, during her own funeral.

Olive took peeks down each hallway before crossing, till they stood in a doorway, facing a messy desk. Behind it sat the coroner, an African-American man with a constant sour expression, he had slightly hunched shoulders, the inner half of his eyebrows always pointed down and the outer half pointed up.

Chuck waved. "Hello," she gave a tight lipped smile. "Are they in there?" she pointed at the door that led to the morgue.

"Mm-hmm," was the only sound the old man made, suggesting that they were. The girls crept past, Olive tried her best not to giggle, but she couldn't stop herself from staring at the man.

Chuck pulled her into the room and the first thing that hit them was the smell, it was putrid, the smell of rotting flesh and, figures, bleach. Olive covered her nose and Chuck followed suit.

The next thing that hit them, or at least Olive, was that a dead man was sitting up and talking. His head was dented, everywhere. There were dips and indentations in various places giving his head a misshapen look. Ned and Emerson stood in front of him nodding. What hit Chuck about the dead man was what he was saying.

"She bludgeoned me over the head with my Ming vase, that was a priceless antique that she wasted on my head," he sounded fervently angry. Chuck walked forward and stood next to Ned to hear better.

Ned looked down at her. "When did you get here? You're supposed to be in bed," he looked past her and saw Olive. He went pale and his eyes widened. "You brought Itty-Bitty?" he quickly reached out and touched the man stopping his rant about vintage pots mid-sentence, a slight zapping sound and a blink of blue and the man was dead again.

All three turned and focused their attention on Olive, who was unaware of Ned's abilities until now. "Hallelujah, he's alive," Ned chuckled awkwardly. "But now he's not." his voice was flat and strained.

Olive's mouth dropped open and suddenly, out popped a squeak; long and uninterrupted. Ned and Emerson exchanged a look. Chuck cringed. Ned was wondering if a sound like that was healthy to come out of someone and he voiced his concern to Chuck, but she shrugged slowly.

This sound continued to come out of her mouth for many minutes, eventually she stopped, shaky finger pointing at Ned. "You wake dead people!" she shrieked, then left in quite a hurry. Chuck, feeling worried for her friend, ran after Olive, leaving Ned and Emerson to ponder over what they'd just gotten from the dead man.

The two men turned and left the morgue, saying goodbye to the coroner, receiving a 'Mmhmm' in return.

Upon arriving back at the pie shop, Emerson and the Piemaker found Olive and Chuck having a discussion at the counter.

"See?" Chuck crossed the space between her and Ned and poked his jacket covered chest. "All human."

Ned hunched and retracted his stomach. "Please, don't do that," he smirked, a light blush rising on his cheek.

Olive looked at him, unsure how to feel and unsure what to say. Everything about Ned and Chuck not touching made sense all of a sudden, and Ned's genius deductions about murder victims. But instead of showing her discomfort, she gave him a weak smile and walked to the back quickly.

"I've ruined my relationship with her, haven't I?" he felt dismayed, he'd always felt like Olive was a valued friend, she had a sense of happiness that few other people had.

Chuck shook her head, her copper curls twisting in a flow of soft luscious strawberries in cream perfection, it gave him tingles. He turned and looked back at where Olive had disappeared to, feeling a sense of remorse, but feeling Chuck's arm slip into his, protected by a long sleeve he felt that groggy heaviness in his chest lift. "It was my fault, I shouldn't have brought her into the morgue," Chuck smiled sadly and apologetically up at him. "So, the man you were talking to, he met his unhappy ever after via Ming vase?"

Ned nodded and hung up his coat, slipped into a booth and propped his elbows up on the table. "Let's give her the facts," he looked at Emerson, who sat down across from him, only to have Chuck bounce in next to him.

And the facts were these, Herald Hendricks, antiques collector, had been tragically bludgeoned to death by a Ming vase, no one had had any evidence as to who the killer was, until the recent trip to the morgue. Herald had told them that his wife killed him, angry because of an affair he'd had years before but she'd only just learned of. She'd used one of his prized possessions for the purpose of spiting him. She'd gotten her way obviously, in both killing him and spiting him, he was quite angry when explaining how she'd 'manhandled the priceless beauty'.

Emerson leaned back in his seat. "I looked into it on the way over, made a few calls. Hendricks wife hasn't been seen since this afternoon, looks like she took all of his antiques with her on her way out of town. Dirty double back stabbing, cheatin'-"

"Emerson," Chuck smirked, secretly agreeing with Emerson, but not voicing that opinion, as it was her opinion and she liked keeping that sort of thing to herself. "Let's go see if we can catch up with her at the train station."

Chuck slipped out of the booth, holding out her hand for Emerson to grab. "What? It's almost 9:00 at night, woman. What're you thinking?" the private eye frowned at her, knowing that all the excitement of a case got to Chuck's head sometimes.

"Well, if she tried to jump town this afternoon, she could still be there. Say she missed the 12:00 train and is now waiting for the 9:00, which is leaving in ten minutes," she considered sticking out her lip for good measure, but knew that Emerson wouldn't fall for something so childish, so instead she batted her thick eyelashes at him.

Ned caved. "I say we go," he raised his eyebrows at Emerson, his eyes pleading right alongside Chuck's. Even though the two could never touch, they still had something that would be unbreakable, they would always love each other. Olive would say they were soul mates, Emerson would say they were stupid and they would say they were meant for each other, it was unmistakable.

Emerson got up and followed the two bubbly characters to the car, where he unwillingly got in. "You know it will take us 12 minutes to get there," he said, hoping to change their minds about going out in the dark of night after a deranged murderer.

But Chuck simply grinned and countered with, "Not if you let me drive," she slipped into the driver's seat. "Buckle up, you two, it's going to be pretty fast from here on out." and she giggled and started the engine.

Ned felt nervous about letting Chuck drive, so much that his palms almost sweated, but as a man who made pies for a living he'd trained himself not to let that happen for fear of giving his dough a salty taste.

"Oh no," Emerson swallowed his words as wind immediately began to rush past his ears, the Pie Hole being left far behind in seconds.

8 minutes, 23 seconds later, after many bumps and two nearly tragic accidents of someone falling out of the car, it pulled to a stop. Leaving Emerson and Ned out of breath, Chuck hopped out happily. "Come on! There's a train coming in in 6 minutes and we can't miss her!" she cried, running down the train station, eager to find Mrs. Hendricks, the psycho murderous wife who'd stolen all of her husbands prized possessions.

The PI and the Piemaker stumbled slowly after her, keeping their eyes peeled for the woman that was the prime suspect in a murder at the moment. Ned went one way and Emerson the other. After running quite a ways in one direction and then back, Ned approached Emerson out of breath. "Nothing, you?"

"Same, nil," he shook his head. As Ned sighed and contemplated giving up, a shout came from the end of the track.

"Chuck!" Ned cried, eyes widening and he took off at a fast pace, eager to ensure his childhood sweetheart's safety.

Emerson on his tail, the gravel beneath his feet kicking up into the air. He feared that maybe Chuck had fallen to the same fate that Herald Hendricks had, what if the villainous woman had smashed the only woman he'd ever loved over the head with a vintage phonograph, severing a vein in her brain and killing her forever.

He turned a corner, seeing the platform where passengers load their luggage onto the train, and saw trunks of things being put onto the large dark green locomotive. A woman stood next to the trunks, looking shocked and Charlotte Charles stood in front of her, hand outstretched and in that hand was a pocket knife, old and rusted. She'd obviosuly collected it from the small red case that now lay spilt on the floor, antique trinkets being ruined by the mud and rain that had just begun to fall.

With his heart racing and his breath gone, the Piemaker saw the possibility that with the wrong turn of events, he could lose the girl named Chuck. Thus he called her name again, in a moment that seemed too long she looked over and saw him. "Ned, come grab her," her hands holding the knife were shaky, but still determined.

Emerson slowly approached, hands in the air. "Calm down, dead girl," he said. He walked up, grabbing the woman's wrists, since he was a private eye he wasn't licensed handcuffs and so just held her still. He was pleased with his 'arrest' and pulled out his phone to call the police so they could make an official arrest.

Ned filled with relief and he stepped backwards, trying to get as far away from the murderer as possible. He chuckled with the elation in his chest, he was happy to finally have another killer under his belt, even though Chuck had done most of the work.

The woman wiggled her arms, stuffing her hands into her pockets. Emerson chuckled. "Yeah, you aren't getting anywhere," he sounded too confident.

"I wouldn't be so sure," these words came with a chill and shortly after came the click of a gun. Emerson raised an eyebrow and pulled his hands back, letting go of Mrs. Hendricks. "Okay, I can play this game, but it won't last long. The cops will be here soon."

Chuck gasped and Ned turned on his heel to see Emerson Cod being held at gunpoint. "They may be here soon, but not soon enough," she snarled, stepping up onto the train as the steam started to pump out of the top, it was preparing to leave. "Don't try to follow."

Emerson retreated to next to Chuck, who clutched his hand. "By proxy hand squeeze?" she whispered and Emerson reached over for Ned's hand. "Pieman, get over here," he turned to look, but he was too late, Ned was not there.

Chuck let out a shriek as Ned ran after the train, his arm outstretched and groping for the bar on the side. There was no way that he would let this woman walk free. He was desperate not to let killers roam around, he needed to lock her up. His moral sense of good was what had made his legs move to get him next to the train.

The train started to gain speed, but he was close. Too close.

The gun went off and Ned was sent reeling backwards. He hit the gravel with a painstaking grunt.

Chuck screamed, Emerson shouted and both went to retrieve the Piemaker, who lay unnervingly close to the track.

They got him back to where they believed he would be safe, but he wouldn't, never again would he be safe.

Shock was the first thing that Chuck felt, she shook him gently. "Ne-Ned, come on, you'll be okay."

But he wouldn't.

Steady tears started to fall down her face right as she saw the blood pooling out of his chest. "No," she choked.

Emerson took off his hat and held it against his chest. "Not him," he whispered. "Please not him."

Ned spluttered, his hand lifting to cover the bullet hole in his navy sweater. "Charlotte," he gasped. "Chuck."

A bloody grin filled his face, red trickled from his mouth. His head slipped to the ground, going limp and his face was frozen in what was once joy. His last feeling of joy, at seeing his beloved Chuck seconds before his untimely death.

Sobbing, Chuck stared at him, half of her hoped that what she was about to do would kill her, half of her wished that she would wake him this time. She reached out a hand and touched his cheek, it was soft. Softer than she'd ever imagined his skin could be. She stretched her hand out and let it rest fully on his face.

She could almost feel her heart break in two as the warmth that she'd felt briefly against her hand fade away to dead cold.

And so it was that the girl named Chuck and the boy named Ned had their ever after - and it was indeed not a happy one.


End file.
